


The Azure Dusk

by Quasar_3C273



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Only Kyrie/Nero romance, Team as Family, no OC romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23126011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quasar_3C273/pseuds/Quasar_3C273
Summary: Legends say that Sparda single-handedly defeated the Prince of Darkness Mundus and his army. But, what if he had help? Sworn to him was an unexpected ally, a dragon. The pair sealed away Mundus restoring order to the world. As time continued to march forward, dragons went back to just being legends. Until one day a young woman stumbles upon an unknown power that would not only change her life, but also the lives of the descendants of The Legendary Dark Knight.(Update: Complete rewrite of chapter two)Updates every Thursday
Relationships: Dante & Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Kyrie (Devil May Cry) & Original Character(s), Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry), Nero & Nico (Devil May Cry), Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero (Devil May Cry) & Original Character(s), Nico & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Sparda (Devil May Cry) & Original Character(s)
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all who are reading this! This is my first fanfiction so I just wanted to say I hope you all enjoy it! I would love to hear some feedback on how to improve my writing, so don't be afraid to leave a comment. That being said, I am not sure how I am going to feel about this plot going forward. I have thought and planned this for a long time, but depending on how these first few chapters are received may decide if I want to continue this or not. Also, I just want to make this very clear from the beginning. There is an original character in this story. She will be the main protagonist along with the main DMC cast but there will be no romance with her or any of the other characters in this story. The only relationship in this story will be Nero and Kyrie. If you are looking for anything else, I would recommend you go elsewhere. If you are all in for a hopefully decent action/adventure with a side of family fluff, you are in the right place. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the show!

Screams echoed throughout the open landscape. What once was a luscious forest filled with looming oak trees was now flattened by the ongoing cataclysm. The sky bled red, as it wept ash and debris. In the distance, a hell gate stood, looming over the landscape. It had appeared a few days ago, becoming the Prince of Darkness Mundus' last-ditch effort to invade the human world. His general, Sparda, had rebelled against his prior overlord, rallying his demonic forces to his cause.

Demons spilled out of the hell gate. Pyrobats and Sin Scissors took to the sky to decimate the already beaten landscape. Riots, Hellhounds, and other grotesque monsters surged forward searching for blood. A troop of Behemoths crashed through the corpses of the fallen oaks, the splinters spraying everywhere. There were arch demons as well. A nightmarish giant creature slithered out of the gate writhing, its appendages bearing sharp, needle-like protrusions on them. Its many eyes twitched and shuddered.

The majority of the human inhabitants were smart enough to have left with the appearance of the gate, but some were not so lucky. A young boy looked on from the rubble of his home, crying softly so as not to warrant any attention to himself. He could hear the demons snuffling about, hunting for any survivors. Around him, it was absolute chaos. The boy had tried to search for his family, but he had no luck finding them. His mind strayed to his sister and he prayed to the gods that she was spared.

Another chunk of debris suddenly smashed to the ground about a hundred feet away. The demon hoard continued to close in. Silently creeping over a dilapidated wall, the boy tried to sneak into another house. As he looked around, he could tell that this was the corpse of the house his friend. His friend's little wooden pully horse lay on its side, scorched from the onslaught. As he was about to pick it up, a spine-chilling growl crept from the other side of the room. An Assault had made it into the house and was now staring at the boy. Breath hitching up in his throat, the boy slowly took a step back. His father, a warrior, had warned him the worst thing he could do when facing a demon was to turn his back to it. The Assault snarled and slunk forward. The boy ran. The Assault ran.

It was a game of cat and mouse. One moment the boy was scaling an old brick wall, another he was sliding down a hill as the Assault leap and bound towards him. His heart pounded with every step, panic flooding him. A loose rock suddenly came loose and the boy tripped. The hard ground dug into his hands as he braced himself from the impact. He tumbled downwards for a few feet, finally landing in a small ditch. Getting up, the boy raced over to the nearest wall. Claws scratched against old bricks. The Assault’s growls could be heard from his makeshift hiding spot. It sniffed the air trying to pick up the scent of its prey. Closer and closer it came. A snap of a fallen twig. The slight rustle of the beast's tail against the desecrated ground. Closer and closer it came. The boy's tried to muffle his breathing by pressing his hand against his mouth. Blood dripped slowly from the wounds on his hands. Closer and closer it came. It was right above him now. He could see the tips of its wicked claws from the ledge where he fell. This was it. One more silent plea to the gods.

“Please make this quick.”

“Please protect my family.”

“Please protect my sister.”

The Assault's head peeked over the ledge.

A howl pierced the air. The Assault's head twisted upward and before the young boy knew it, the monster was gone, its prey long forgot. It would have been a time to celebrate it if it weren't for another roar echoing from the distance. Nimbly, the boy scaled a nearby wall. From the sound, something big was coming and it was approaching fast. He looked out into the horizon and he was suddenly met with a strange sight. The ground was quickly frosting over. Flames that were once burning were quickly extinguished as a large three-headed hound made its way onto the battlefield. Flanking the hound were two headless ogres, one red and one blue.

With a mighty howl, the hound charged the legion of demons. The left head snapped at a pesky demon who was trying to climb up the hound’s flank. The rightmost head roared and decapitated an unlucky Riot. The middle one sent an icy stream, freezing the enemy in their tracks. A Cerberus, the boy's mind supplied. The headless twins stomped past the Cerberus. They wielded strange swords, ones like the boy had never seen on any of the local warriors of his town. Charging into the fray, the blue ogre swung its blade. A windstorm suddenly ravaged the landscape, lesser demons getting caught in the whirlwind. The red ogre also swung its blade but rather than wind, flames erupted onto the battlefield. The only thing the boy could do was to look on in awe as a storm of ice, wind and fire destroyed any demon who dare oppose the trio. Just as he thought things could not get any more hectic, the screech of bats filled the air. Looking to the heavens, his eyes met thousands of bats wreathed in lightning. They swarmed, taking out anything brave enough to take to the sky. Amid all the bats the boy got a glimpse of a red-haired demoness. With a wave of her fingers, a bolt of lightning snapped from the sky, electrocuting one of the bigger winged demons. Electricity arched from one demon to the next. Soon, bloody bits of demon rained from the sky. Watching these mysterious figures, the boy couldn't help but sit in amazement as he watched them cull the invading force. Demons fighting other demons. Why?

With no place to go, the boy sat on the brick wall for what seemed like hours. The demons from the hell gate were being pushed back. Some were even running back through the portal to save themselves from the slaughter. Even the giant nightmarish beast was ripped to shreds by the Cerberus and burned by the red ogre for good measure. Were these demons here to save them or would they turn on the surrounding area after dealing with the other demons? Before the boy could think any further, an overpowering sense of dread filled the area. Time seemed to slow as the electric demoness was suddenly shot from the sky by a bolt of red energy. From the portal, a statue-like figure emerged. Three eyes dotted its head, almost like a crown. Wings graced the demons back, flaring outwards as it was finally through the portal. This was Mundus. This was the Prince of Darkness.

The boy couldn't move. Fear overwhelmed all his senses. He looked over the strange group of demons. It was evident that the demoness was severely injured. She kept an elegant hand glued to her side, trying to stem the flow of blood. The other demons seemed just as fearful, the Cerberus taking a few wary steps back. Before the boy could blink, Mundus flapped his wings and red barbs pierced into the twins and the Cerberus. They wailed in pain as their blood splattered onto the ground. Each of them crumpled into a heap, limp, seemingly lifeless. Silence reigned upon the world, the only thing that could be heard was the boy's panicked breathing.

Before he could move, the sound of beating wings filled the air. The sky was filled with dark clouds, obscuring whatever was approaching the Dark Emperor. The noise grew louder and louder until an earth-shattering roar assaulted the battlefield. Clutching his ears, the boy could feel the ground tremble from the powerful sound. It was like nothing he had heard before. From the clouds a large reptilian figure dove towards the demon lord. Purple flames wreathed the beast as it tore and clawed at Mundus' statuesque face. Mundus threw the creature off. It gracefully twisted itself in the air and took to the skies again. It was a dragon. The dragon bore a pair of massive horns that curled towards its snout. Its dark scales shone with an oil-like sheen, contrasting its ruby-like eyes. It was easily the size of the Cerberus that had terrorized the battlefield earlier. Powerful webbed wings beat the air, as the dragon whipped its glaive tipped tail. Underneath its scales seemed to pulse dark purple energy. Upon its ivory tipped spine stood a figure. The boy’s mind wandered to the whispers of his village elders. This was Sparda, the demon who rebelled against Mundus. Head held high, Sparda unsheathed his sword. It was a monstrous blade, flesh-like structures climbing up its hilt. With a flick of his wrist, the blade transformed into a scythe. The combatants stood, waiting for whoever would make the first move.

Suddenly Mundus bellowed, "Was your melodramatic tantrum worth it all boy? Look around you. This world is mine. Its people gone, turned to ash. Do you think you can stand against such absolute might?"

Sparda scoffed. If the boy had been closer, he would have seen the dragon roll its eyes. Sparda stared at Mundus for a moment before saying, "You're becoming desperate Mundus. You've already lost. Even your generals have turned against you. It's only a matter of time before you perish."

Rage boiling, Mundus conjured a small legion of luminous red spears. "If your sole intent was to aggravate me, let me assure you that you have succeeded. Now come! I will crush you like the pest you are."

The spears fired down upon the duo. Twisting and turning in the air, the dragon dodged the deadly volley. Atop the dragon’s head, Sparda deflected the oncoming projectiles, slashing at any stray bolts. Fire burst from the dragon’s mouth, creating a sort of defense from the onslaught. Just as the duo got close, Sparda suddenly leaped from the dragon, sword readied to bear down upon the three-eyed devil. Mundus blocked the attack with his sword, the sound of metal against metal screaming out into the air. As the two powerful demons were locked in combat, the dragon circled back in the air, ready to attack once again. Mundus had other plans. Countering one of Sparda’s attacks, Mundus took hold of one of Sparda’s horns and tossed the opposing demon. Sparda flew across the air, tumbling a good few feet before stopping. As he picked himself off the ground, Sparda was greeted with hundreds of needle-like bolts of energy. He spread his wings, deep purple swords appearing from behind him. Faster than the boy’s eye could see, Sparda charged the deadly legion, making his way back towards his adversary.

Meanwhile, the dragon clawed and snapped at Mundus. The ground was lite aflame and motes of fire sped in every direction. Chunks of stone-like flesh fell to the ground, broken and charred. A writhing mess of flesh started peeking out from the cracks. With a mighty swing of its tail, the dragon pierced Mundus’ shoulder with the glaive like tip. Blood gushed from the wound. Twisting around, the dragon was about to yank away the makeshift weapon. That’s when Mundus wrapped a large stone hand around the end of the tail. The dragon thrashed, but it could not free itself.

Countless bolts rained down upon the beast, shredding the dragon’s wings and piercing its flank. Blood pooled from its wounds, as it collapsed. Struggling to get up, Mundus stepped forward and stood over the dragon, a sneer on his face. “Poor powerless worm. Outcasted and alone. Your kind has no place in this world, let alone a misfit such as you. Why defend a realm that constantly rejects your existence?”

The dragon looked up at the demon. The boy swore he saw something resembling a smile on its face. A cough escaped its maw as it simply said, “Humans are interesting. They are creatures without scales, claws or horns and yet, they continue to exist. Something is intriguing about a seemingly weak being standing against impossible odds. I want to see how their story ends, unlike many of my kin.”

Mundus gave a dark chuckle. Readying his sword, he glared down at the dragon. He was about to hack off the dragon’s head before it quickly added, “I also get the pleasure of seeing a blade through your chest.”

Not a second later, a sword wielded by none other than Sparda erupted from Mundus’ chest. Sparda, not wasting any time, pulled out the blade and swung it, clipping Mundus’ wings and taking one of his arms. Mundus roared with anger as blood poured from his wounds. The arm dropped with a loud thud. Delicate stone feathers splintered as they fell. Mundus dropped to the ground and Sparda hurried to the dragon’s side as it tried to rise to its feet. A gash adorned Sparda’s leg and small cuts seemed to paint his armored exoskeleton. He had not escaped unscathed, but this was the moment they had been waiting for. Together they faced their foe.

A mess of grotesque, writhing living tissue emerged from the stone shell. Three eye-like structures dotted the monster's "head" as slid towards the warriors. A wretched stench of death and decay filled the air as more and more of the Prince of Darkness’ form emerged. Mundus’ true form had finally been revealed. Sparda and the dragon charged, purple blades and motes of fire creating a deadly light show. Blood showered everywhere as the demonic knight severed tentacle-like appendages and the dragon tore into the fleshy bits of the Mundus monstrosity. The battle continued, each side shedding blood. It was only a matter of time before someone fell. Luckily for humanity, Sparda dodged a fatal blow before racing up the dragon’s back, only to propel himself forward. Flames ate away at the oncoming tentacles, leaving Mundus’ mass of eyes open. Sparda plunged his sword into the topmost eye before smashing his clawed hand into another eye and tearing it from its socket. Sparda let go of the eye and lay the clawed hand upon the grotesque head. It had appeared like Sparda had said something, but the boy could not decipher the words as it was too far away. Bright white lights suddenly erupted from Mundus’ body. An astonished “No!” echoed. Shielding his eye, the boy looked away.

When he looked back there was no sign of the demon prince. It also seemed that the demon generals that had fought Mundus’ army had retreated when Sparda and the dragon had appeared. Now, only Sparda and the dragon stood amid the carnage. The dragon let out a victorious roar as it spread its tattered wings in triumph. The boy couldn’t believe it. Mundus has been banished thanks to this Legendary Dark Knight and King of Firedrakes. With shaking hands, the boy rappelled back down the stone wall. With the chaos ended, it was time to try to find his family. Slowly, the boy made his way out of the destroyed village. The world was completely quiet, no demons scurrying about, no screams of dying people. He made it up to the top of the hill and overlooked the landscape. The hell gate stood stagnant, forever a monument of what happened. Looking back to the battlefield, the boy noticed the two saviors gone, the only things remaining were the demonic corpses littering the area. A call was heard from behind him. It was a group of villagers. They must have been also watching the battle from afar. Hope blossomed in the boy’s chest when he saw his sister among them. Fortune had smiled upon him. His prayers had been answered by an unlikely force. It would take time but eventually, they would rebuild. Someday, Fortuna would return to its former glory.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned and after a bit of time, I've decided how I initially started this was horrible. I have completely overhauled all of chapter two. Practically everything is different so please read this chapter or this is going to be confusing. I hope everyone enjoys this better. I am completely new to writing, but this should flow a bit better with the direction I want to take. Also please tell me if there are any large grammatical errors, I'm the only one reading this so I miss stuff sometimes.

Despair. The sensation floods the cavern. A prone form tilts his head, only to gaze up at the already darkening sky. Blood slicks his face and congeals in his mouth. Each breath seems to become harder to grasp. He knows the truth. He knows this is his end. Yet, the overwhelming despair does not stem from his self-pity nor his fear. With his failure, comes unimaginable dangers. With his negligence, comes broken promises. With his naivety, comes death. Jagged rocks bite into his side as he struggles to stand again. He does not want to die in the dark.

“I’m sorry…”

“…my friend…”

A screech tears through the dilapidated tomb and the warrior raises his head. Eyes defiant, they meet a set of smoldering, red eyes. A whisper flutters its final flight.

“Father…”

A set of sharp blue eyes snap open as legs desperately try to kick away a light blanket. Quickly rubbing her eyes, a young woman attempts to take some calming breaths. The metallic taste of blood still lingers in her mouth and the scent still sticks to her nostrils. In the last few months, this has become somewhat of a routine for Skylar Rawley. The nightmares began before moving to Fortuna, but have gotten worse as months have gone by.

Pulling off the blanket and swinging her legs off the bed, her eyes flick over to the alarm clock that sits on her end table. 4:27 AM. A sigh escapes her lips as she ran her fingers through black wavy locks. The strands tickle her neck as she tugs at the knots, before eventually grabbing a brush and hairband to tie up her hair. It is still dark outside her window.

In the darkness, she surveys her room. A wooden desk piled with different books and papers sits in the corner of the room near the window. Alongside them sits a laptop, a pair of headphones, and a phone. A small round cactus and a few varied succulent plants perch on the windowsill. One of the plants leans awkwardly to the left, looking cramped in its small pot. Skylar makes a mental note to repot the plant when given the chance. Drifting over to her dresser on the other side of her room, Skylar grabs a pair of black running sweats, a dark green t-shirt, a black hoodie, and some socks.

Quickly getting dressed, the headphones are snatched off the desk and draped around her neck. The phone is switched on and unlocked. No incoming messages or texts at the moment. Crouching down at the end of her bed, she unlocks a sturdy wooden chest containing a small backpack and a journal. The worn leather-bound journal is thrown haphazardly into the bag before it’s snatched from the chest and the lid closes with a quiet “thump”. Turning to leave the room, Skylar turns back towards her dresser to grab a lone necklace. Her hand wraps around the obsidian pendant before she clasps the silver chain around her neck.

Fiddling with the pendant, her blue eyes rove upon the delicately carved obsidian. The dark stone spike is a little bigger than her thumb, featuring a family of carved runes. Skylar remembers asking her mother what the symbols meant when she gave the necklace to her. Her mother hadn’t known either, just saying it had been given to her by her father before she left Fortuna with her mother. Skylar’s mother hadn’t wanted the necklace, saying it always made her feel uneasy wearing it and reminded her of darker times. On the contrary, Skylar was enamored with the necklace. It always seems warm to the touch, but no one else observed this oddity. Her mother was all too happy to let her have the piece of jewelry.

Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she quietly opens her bedroom door. Wincing when an old floorboard creaks, she pauses and listens. The night is quiet, as it usually was on the outskirts of the city. Her roommate, Izzy, seems to still be sleeping peacefully in her room.

“Good.”, Skylar thinks, “I didn’t wake her.”

Izzy doesn’t know about her nightmares. Skylar wants to keep it that way. Her friend already has her demons she struggles with.

Continuing into the small living room, which contains a creaky couch, a television, and a bookcase, Skylar steps around the old couch, making her way into the connecting small kitchen. The kitchen, along with the rest of the house, is under construction, dark wood cabinetry and white linoleum flooring torn out in certain areas, the ancient stove evicted from its home over the oven. Tugging open the now replaced fridge; Skylar grabs a metallic water bottle she had left the night prior. Closing the door, she looks at the whiteboard stuck to it. Scrawled on the whiteboard is a note in Izzy’s sloppy handwriting.

“Hey, Early Bird!

Remember I have my meeting with Carson today so I am not going to be home until much later tonight. Could you pick up some milk from the store after your run today? We’re almost out! Hope you have a good day!

-Night Owl

P.S. Sky, I know you don’t like Carson, but he’s the best when it comes to tutoring in Chem. Trust me, I know how to handle him! Don’t worry! And if worse comes to worst, I know you and Brandon would take care of him for me.”

A smile plays on her lips at the sight of a lopsided drawn heart at the end of the note. Funny, smart, beautiful, Isabella Spini is Skylar’s childhood friend. Her dark brown hair contrast with her bright green eyes. Skylar always joked that Izzy must be some daughter of the forest, with her eyes fashioned from the newly grown leaves of spring. Izzy would always laugh, replying if that were true, then her hair must be made from the mud.

Despite being almost a head or two shorter than Skylar, Izzy is the more confident and outspoken of the duo and in the past has not been afraid to speak out against people twice her size. It’s this confidence that has gotten her to be the top of her class at Fortuna’s local university. Before college, Izzy often visited Fortuna throughout her childhood due to her father being a knight in the Order of the Sword. She didn’t live permanently in the city, living on the mainland with her mother, but Fortuna quickly became a second home to her. It was their history with Fortuna that Izzy and Skylar had met. It was a rare arrangement, but by some miracle, the Spini family was to accomplish it. That is, until the Savior Incident. This was the first time in five years that Izzy had visited Fortuna. It took Skylar’s move to the city and the promise of living with her best friend to convince Izzy to step foot into Fortuna again. Especially after what happened to her father those five years ago.

Quickly doodling a little cartoon bird to show that she had read her message, Skylar shoves the water bottle into her backpack and makes her way out the door. Pausing to grab her running shoes, she once again listens for any sign of Izzy being awake. In the kitchen the fridge hums and the aging cottage shifts and settles. Shoes now on, Skylar makes her way to the front door, deftly unlocking the door and slipping outside.

A cool night’s breeze laps at her face as she locks the door behind her. Chirping from nearby crickets help drown the screech that tore through her ears earlier. Stars above her are just starting to dim as the dawn approaches swiftly. If she is lucky, she will be able to make it to the hilltop before sunrise.

Donning her headphones, Skylar begins her run. Running has always been a solution to her problems. The faster she runs, the faster she can forget what is bothering her. There were many times Skylar was tempted to tell Izzy about the nightmares she had been experiencing, but some part of her makes her feel selfish for doing so. What truly bothers her is that these night terrors don’t feel like a figment of her imagination. Everything about the situation screams something wrong, but she doesn’t know what. It tortures her to no end. Turning a corner, Skylar makes her way into the woods, trying to block out the nagging sensation in her mind.

Little does she know, another person also sits awake that night, trying to make sense of a nightmare, with eyes just as blue. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you all are having a good day! I am planning to update this bad boy every Thursday, so stay tuned if you're interested. Also, I now have a Tumblr account (@ cobalt-creature) where I might start posting art of the story. Not necessary to check it out, but if want to see some character designs and other stuff (a lot DMC related stuff) from the story you can find that there. Anyways, as always, thanks for reading, and enjoy the chapter!

Sweat beads down Skylar’s neck as she vaults over a large fallen tree branch. Each step gets her closer to the summit. It has been about thirty minutes since she has left the house and she can see the stars starting to fade and the sky start to brighten. The path she has chosen is one she has run many times in the past and one that she thoroughly enjoys. Before she had moved to Fortuna about half a year ago, she never would have imagined she would be living in her grandfather’s old cottage. Izzy sometimes proclaims that the house is haunted, which Skylar couldn’t help but agree sometimes. The old house makes strange noises in the night and seems colder in certain parts. Her friend swears that she had seen a ghostly figure one night and Skylar wouldn’t have been surprised.

“’ Cause you fall in and fall away. This love is in retrograde. Fall in and fall away. I kind of think you like this…”, the lyrics echo from her headphones.

Under the canopy of trees, step by step, heart racing faster, Skylar crests the next hill, quickly hopping from a large rock in the middle of the path. Rusty dust drifts in the air as it’s kicked up by her shoes. Pebbles clatter as they are dislodged from the path and tumble downwards. A glance to her right gives Skylar a view of their plunge off the hillside into the cavern below. Filled to the brim with different types of foliage, she cannot decipher how deep it goes.

Skylar rarely encounters anyone out on the trail, to her relief. Most of Fortuna’s residents spend their time on the coastlines and at public parks, guaranteeing their safety while they enjoy outside activities. Demons are still a threat in many areas of Fortuna, but Skylar has never encountered one on any of her outings. They had been mostly cleared from the main city by the remainder of the Order of the Sword after the Savior Incident, but lesser demons still wandered the outskirts. Tucked away in her bag is a small bottle of holy water, in case of emergencies. A large silver hunting knife sits in a dark leather sheath and is clipped onto the side of her backpack for easy access. The knife, from the bottom of the handle to the tip of the blade, is almost the size of her forearm. Dark wood forms the handle, while a bright silver blade, adorned in demon warding sigils, gives the weapon its bite. It was a gift given to her uncle from an elderly weaponsmith, claiming that it would protect him while he was working. The old man had lied.

From a young age, Skylar knew about the existence of demons. It was interesting growing up, trying to explain to her friends the dangers that lurked in the shadows. In the town she grew up in, demons were not common knowledge and occurrences of them usually became alien sightings or some unexplainable science. Her uncle was the one who showed her otherwise and taught her how to protect herself. Her mother was not pleased about Skylar’s encounters with the supernatural but understood the overall benefits. The danger truly cemented itself the night Skylar lost him. She was sixteen at the time.

Slowing her pace, Skylar plops her hands on the top of her head to help steady her breathing. The headphones once again rest on her neck, allowing her to take in her surroundings. Now at the top of the mountain, she makes her way to her usual spot, a large rock overlooking the cliffside. Rummaging through her bag, she pulls out her water bottle, the journal, and a trio of pencils. Silently sipping the water, one hand flips open the journal to a clean page. Fumbling with the water bottle, she sets it down and begins to sketch in the dim light of the coming dawn. The light pencil outlines the scene with messy and jagged lines. By the time the sun has started to peek above the horizon, a dark cavern sprawls across the page, just like her nightmare from earlier.

An annoyed huff escapes her lips. She had read somewhere online that drawing or writing about nightmares could help escape them and create something productive. Demons and sceneries stalk the little journal’s pages along with horrors that she cannot name. She flips to a random page. The face of a young woman, reaching out to some unknown figure while being carried away by some monstrous creature. Her delicate features, twisted into an expression of fear. Unimaginable grief, anger, and guilt had flooded her that night, so much so she had woken up, tears streaming down her face. In the ensuing days, Izzy had complained that Skylar was being a little “clingy”. Skylar couldn’t collect the courage to explain to her why. Snapping the book shut, Skylar tosses all the contents back into the bag.

Eyes on the horizon, the sun starts its ascent into the heavens. Pastel purples, pinks, and reds paint the sky, obscured slightly by the misty clouds of the mountain top. Places earlier wreathed in shadow are now exorcised of the darkness, leaving vibrant greens from the trees surrounding the cliffside. Skylar takes a moment to close her eyes and enjoy the warmth of the newly born rays. The light breeze from earlier returns with more vigor, soothing everything with a gentle cool touch. Opening her eyes, the sun sits in its rightful place, the last remnants of night burned away. She looks down to collect her bag and tosses it on her back. Although peaceful, the stove at home was not going to fix itself. For one last time, Skylar looks at the cliffside to burn the image in her mi—

A looming figure stands on the ledge, silent and unmoving. A dark ebony cloak hangs from his shoulders, accents of gold and rich purples adorning the center of the fabric and shoulders. His long snowy hair is neatly braided down his back, a small golden cuff tying it in place. A yelp almost escapes Skylar at the newcomer’s sudden appearance. She hadn’t heard anyone coming up the path and from the look of the cloak, he hadn’t been walking any of the dusty trails. Cautiously, she approaches the figure. Why was he up here? He shouldn’t be so close to the cliff’s drop-off.

“Mister?” Skylar hesitantly stammers, “Uhm sir? Are you all alright? It’s not safe to be so close to the edge.”

The figure doesn’t move.

She steps a bit closer.

“Not trying to be rude or anything!” She quickly adds, “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

At that, the man finally turns to look at the now, very nervous young woman. Now being able to fully look at the man, Skylar notices he is wearing bits of armor mostly on his upper body while his lower body, while still armored, exhibits a lighter design including pants and metal-tipped boots. The dark metal plates are elegantly crafted, almost looking like a second skin rather than the bulky monstrosities seen in medieval movies. Unknown sigils and patterns are engraved into the plates. They shine in the newly risen sun with ethereal light, unlike any she had ever seen. The cloak hides his arms, which seem to be neatly tucked behind his back.

An intrigued expression rests on the man’s face. He looks older than Skylar, possibly in his late thirties. Clean-shaven, the sharp lines of his face give him a regal look. Resting on top of his head looks two large horns sweeping downwards towards his chin.

“A crown?”, a baffled Skylar asks herself.

Even with the man wearing a crown in the modern era, the most notable of his features are his eyes. His eyes shine with the vibrance of a clear summer’s day. Unlike his youthful face, however, his eyes hold an intense gaze that makes Skylar struggle to keep eye contact. Although the man’s gaze seems not to be filled with any ill intent, the darkness hiding behind the blue irises make Skylar feel even warier.

Still, she takes another step closer.

The corner of his lip tugs up slightly before the man gives Skylar a small approving grin. He says something in a deep rumbling voice. What Skylar could only guess as words sound like a jumbled mess of growls and consonants. He looks at her expectantly.

“I-I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re saying. Are you lost? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

A silvery eyebrow quirks upward, but the man does not say anything. Instead, he takes a step backward. Then another and another.

Panic bolts through Skylar.

“Wait!”

Hand outstretched, Skylar runs towards the falling figure desperate to catch him. She barely stops herself at the edge, only to look down an see no sign of the man. A large grove of trees is all that fills the cavern below. Listening intently for any snapping tree branches or sound of a landing, she fights the blooming hysteria. Where did he go? Why did he suddenly jump? Did she just watch him die?

“Sir are you down there! Yell if you can hear me!”

She paces a few times, then looks again down below. Maybe she should call for help? Skylar knows she doesn’t have a signal up in this area, so she would need to run down a little farther to be able to make a call. There’s nothing she can do here. She’s not trained for this! There shouldn’t be anyone up here in the first place, let alone some strange guy wearing something out of medieval times! What was she supposed to—

Clawed fingers dig into her back as Skylar feels a strong hand push her forwards. Terror gnaws at her as she loses her footing. Arms flail desperately to balance herself or to grab onto something. A frightened scream tears from her throat as she starts to free fall into the cavern below. She tries to turn her head to see her assailant, but all she sees is the cliffside quickly leaving her field of vision.

The grove of trees is rapidly approaching. Without thinking, Skylar covers her head and extends her legs downwards. Bracing for the impact she squeezes her eyes shut.

Branches snap as Skylar plummets through the treetops. Twigs scratch at her exposed hands and arms, but the resistance seems to be slowing her fall.

Whack!

Skylar smashes into a large tree branch, air tearing from her lungs. It sends her spiraling into another clump of smaller branches, each one biting at her as she continues her deadly descent. The ground is visible through the foliage. Body tensing, she braces for her inevitable doom.

A large limb catches her backpack and yanks her upwards, the motion rattling her whole frame. The backpack straps dig into her now aching shoulders, but she doesn’t dare move. Trying to get her bearings, she carefully moves her eyes to survey her surroundings. The ground below is about a couple stories drop, high enough that she could break her legs. Glancing above her, the branch seems to be close enough to reach. She knows her best chance is to climb down. Trying to keep calm, Skylar reaches above her with one arm. Once she securely grabs the branch, she takes her other arm and does the same. Taking a deep breath, Skylar pulls herself upwards to unlatch her backpack from the leafy trap. Immediately her arms scream in protest. Her backpack now free, she slowly scoots herself to the trunk of the large tree, her legs still dangling haphazardly beneath her.

After what feels like an eternity, she swings her legs to a stable branch where she can stand up and hug the trunk. Relief washes over her when she is out of immediate danger. Her body trembles from both overexertion and shock, mind reeling from the recent events. All she knows is that she needs to get out of this tree. Looking down once again, she mentally curses. There is a path down, but any mistakes could cost her a broken leg. Luckily, she has never been afraid of heights. 

Grabbing a nearby branch, Skylar steadies herself, only to leap to another nearby. The task is tedious and nerve-wracking, but slowly she makes her way down. She thanks whatever deity for her good balance. About two thirds the way down, Skylar is getting into a sort of pattern. Look, balance, jump. Look, balance, jump. It works for the majority of her trip until she jumps onto what looks to be a stable branch. Instead, the wooden structure collapses from under her. With a shout of surprise, Skylar falls a bit before latching onto a nearby branch with her right hand. Pain sears into her palm and her shoulder pulls painfully. Blood seeps from the fresh wound, causing her to slip and fall the remainder of the way.

The impact shakes her body. Curling protectively around her bleeding hand she takes a moment to just lay there. At least she’s on the ground now, a small voice in her head supplies optimistically. Slowly sitting up, Skylar tries to take account of any injuries she might have suffered. Wiggling her toes, rolling her ankles, bending her knees, she goes up the list of body parts. Gingerly lifting her shirt, she can see an angry red and purple bruise start to form. Tentatively taking a deep breath, her ribs ache slightly, but there is no intense pain. A fresh dribble of blood runs down her neck. Her good hand reaches for the left side of her jaw, where it recoils away instantly. She removes her backpack to check its contents. Nothing seems to be lost, but her phone has a small crack in its screen. Unlocking it, she flips the camera and finally gets a good look at her face.

A weary expression reflects at her. Sharp and intuitive eyes are dulled, dead as their host feels. Small nicks scatter tan skin, a slightly larger one on a high cheekbone, another on the side of her nose. Small leaves and twigs litter her hair. Red stains the side of her neck from the deep gash now engraved on her jaw. The thought of stitches makes her lips twist with a small scowl. The scowl deepens when she also realizes her headphones are missing.

“Shit…” Skylar silently curses.

Fiddling with the phone, Skylar checks for a signal to call for help.

No signal.

Of course.

“Shit…”

Carefully placing the phone into a safer spot, the water bottle is dug out from the bottom of the bag. Her eyes rove over to her torn pant leg. She sighs. The hand needs to be cleaned and bandaged in some manner. Unsheathing the knife, Skylar gets to work cutting a good size strip of cloth from the remainder of the clothing. The last of the pant leg now reached the middle of her thigh, ragged but still relatively clean. Inspecting her hand, Skylar’s stomach twists slightly. Although she has no aversion to blood and gore, the wound looks worse than she thought. It’s not a gash, more of a large messy scrap. Bits of skin hang loosely, as blood oozes from a divot in the heel of her palm. Flecks of bark and debris dot the innards of the marred hand.

In one quick motion, she lays her palm upwards and pours a bit water on the injury. Teeth grit, she shakes off her hand and begins to tightly tie the makeshift bandage around her hand. The fabric burns against the raw flesh, but it seems like it is stemming the majority of the bleeding. Properly cleaning the wound will have to come later, but for now, her hand is protected. She also takes the time to use the rest of the fabric to dab away some of the blood from the gash on her face. Taking a swig from the remainder of the water bottle, she put it back in its proper compartment. The backpack is slung onto her back, but not before the holy water is placed on the ground beside her.

Trying to decide her next move, Skylar’s eyes survey the surrounding woods. Large trees loom above her, obscuring the morning sky. No paths are visible from the grove along with no visible landmarks. Feeling hopelessly lost, she stands up to have a look around, knife in her left hand, holy water in the other. The weight of the knife in her hand makes her feel a bit more secure.

Starting to walk, her nervous humming fills the noiseless air. Whenever anxious or distressed, Skylar always turns to music for comfort. Either it blaring her favorite tunes from her headphones or softly singing the lyrics of a new song she had listened to a bit too much; it helps calm her down. Her voice pitches slightly higher when a dark shape skitters on the outskirts of her vision.

It’s about an hour and two albums worth of humming before Skylar slumps down onto a fallen trunk in a small clearing. No escape from the leafy labyrinth to be found. Legs leaden from the constant movement, the temptation to rest is becoming hard to ignore. Hunger gnaws her stomach, making her regret not bringing something to eat. Looking up, the sun can be seen peeking through the foliage, casting ghostly shadows on the forest floor below. Groaning, she can’t help but close her eyes for a moment.

“Seriously, what the fu—”

A low snarl creeps through the silence and a pair of glowing eyes observe the lost soul from a nearby tree. Her head snaps at the noise. Brandishing the knife and holy water, Skylar slowly stands and backs away while keeping her eye on the nearby intruder. A monster slinks down the tree, to reveal itself to be a large, hunched over, reptilian demon, with long razor-sharp claws. A Riot, her mind fearfully supplies. She has seen demons of this size before, but she has never had to face one. Especially not alone.

Flicking its long tongue, the Riot makes a strange clicking noise. It screeches, drool flying from its misshapen maw.

A plan quickly formulates. One step, two steps, Skylar inches towards the tree line. She pauses, staring the beast down. Adrenaline reinvigorates her exhausted body, becoming tense and ready to spring into action.

The demon barrels towards her, razor-sharp talons slicing through the air. Skylar stands her ground till the last minute, before throwing herself to the right. Barely missing her, the Riot skids on all fours trying to regain its balance. It didn’t expect any resistance.

Taking this opportunity, Skylar whirls around, sprinting further into the woods. Her long legs desperately fleeing from the Riot's pursuing footsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Things are going to pick up a bit more in the next one. If you found any spelling error or weird verbiage let me know. Extra points if you can guess what song Skylar was listening to.


End file.
